We All Know
by westpoints
Summary: complete 'The point is, Mark Sloane is an arrogant prick.' PreMaddison material, Literature Arc. Yay!


Ehehehe. Another literature arc. Yay! I love Mark/Addison. It's like Izzie/Alex, only more fun, because I get more free reign. It's a bit unpolished, I might edit and repost.

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Grey's Anatomy.

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The point is. Well, there is no point, actually. There's a. The point is, Mark Sloane is an arrogant prick and he's working with her. That's the point. They are both surgeons in Mount Sinai. And Addison was about to bust a cap. 

The point is, Derek and Mark are best friends, and it's hard to flirt with a guy whose best friend acts like he owns the place. Pompous scumbag. The proud Mr. Darcy to her unimpressed Elizabeth Bennet. Maybe she'll turn up a long lost sister and the two of them could get along fabulously. She briefly considered a nurse with passably red hair.

The point is, Addison Montgomery said _lupus_, and Mark Sloane said _no way_, and their perky attending decided to let them sort it out themselves. Apparently, it really wouldn't matter; the treatment used would be similar. That's the point. Stupid juju lady. She _knew_ that they loathed each other.

"It is clearly an autoimmune disorder, and judging from specific cases, it's acute SLE."

"It's nothing that drastic, at worst it's an allergic reaction to the skin medication."

"If we pass it off as that, she could end up with SLE for life. I want to run more tests so that we can be sure." Mark pulled her into a side corridor.

"Her family doesn't want her to stay here. It's her birthday tomorrow, do you want to tell them that your paranoid hunch is going to keep her here another day?"

"Sloane..." She looked around carefully, as though the said family was going to pop out of the emergency fire alarm with balloons and confetti. "We can't afford to let her go without more conclusive results."

"And I'm saying we can."

"This has nothing to do with your machismo and your inability to think things through and your obstinate insistence on opposing every decision I make, Sloane, this is a real, live woman whose future is seriously resting in our hands!" He crossed his arms, a confident smirk spreading over his face. She wanted to stomp it into the ground. If only such things were part of the hospital decorum.

"Calm down." Addison began rubbing her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I am calm, I swear. I just. We can't work together. We just can't. We'll just kill people. So. I am going to let you have this patient. Do whatever you want." And maybe kill the woman. Lupus isn't usually enough to cause death. Certainly not the patient's death. But she hopes, horribly, that she will so that Sloane will stop smirking. She is a horrible, horrible person.

"I want you to have dinner with me." She stopped her hand.

"You want what?"

"Well, you gave me permission to do whatever I want, and I want you to have dinner with me."

"In relation to the patient," she said, unnecessarily. "And stop smirking."

"I'm not smirking—"

"You're smirking. Stop it." They looked at each other in joint hatred. And sexual tension.

"So...about that meal that most people have in the evening, usually in the company of a domineering, argumentative, yet strangely attractive woman..."

"No." She started to walk off. "I'm eating with Derek."

Although Addison didn't get the pleasure of seeing Mark Sloane thoroughly shocked by her reply, she was well informed of the reaction by Derek.

There were a grand total of three speechlessness episodes, five curse words, and several elaborate gesticulations with a highlighter. A pink highlighter. In Mark's defense, it was grabbed from the lab coat of the perky juju lady. She laughed.

"He deserves it."

"That, he does," said Derek with a smile.

"He should have stopped smirking."

"As always."

"Thanks for coming with me on such short notice."

"I can't say I was unhappy with the situation. It's not like I had anything else to do."

The next day, she was informed by a rather somber Mark Sloane that he had kept the woman over night, and she was diagnosed with lupus. He proceeded to tell her, "Stop smirking." She stuck out her tongue childishly, and said, "I hate you."

"And I love you," he said dryly. The bewitched Mr. Darcy to her disenchanted Elizabeth Bennet.

And we all know what Jane Austen about _that_.

-end-

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Don't we? I've been obsessed with the 2005 P&P movie lately. 

Matthew McFayden is yummy. Along with Mark Sloane.

Okay...focus... Please review.


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